Throughout the Ages
by bobness
Summary: 20 different stories, each depicting a certain moment in America's history. Rated T for possible language, violence, and other themes in later chapters.
1. Strongest Allies

**This is written for the HetaChallenge Historical Table. Claim is America. Prompt was #8- Betrayal. For more information, please check out my Livejournal (link should be in my profile).  
**

******Based on a press conference between American president Barack Obama and French president Nicolas Sarkozy, back in January of 2011. Obama had stated, "We don't have a stronger friend and stronger ally than Nicolas Sarkozy, and the French people," so I just kinda played off of that.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia!  
**

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England wasn't normally the silent one at the world meetings. Yes, everyone was aware that America had a large mouth and took up most of the time of these meetings, but England would always voice his own opinions, too, or at least belittle what another country thought. Therefore, it slightly nerved everyone when he simply sat there, shooting glares at France or America every so often, playing with a pen and paying as little attention as possible to the meeting.

When it was finally declared over, America followed him out of the room, wanting to know what was bugging England so much. "Iggy? You okay? I'm sorry for rambling back in there, it's just that I thought my idea was best but no one else was agreeing with me so I wanted to continue talking until they saw the awesomeness that-"

"Would you just kindly shut up?" England hissed, finally spinning around. "I could care less about you and your idiotic plans, America. And, furthermore, my name is England, _not_ Iggy." He crossed his arms over his chest, gritting his teeth together in what looked to be an attempt to not start screaming.

It was ordinary for England to call America's plans idiotic. It was ordinary for England to snap at his nickname. However, it wasn't ordinary for England to look so downright angry, so hurt, so lost. "What's wrong?" America asked, instantly concerned. He didn't think he did anything too bad today. It was the usual arguing and bickering and England should have been accustomed to that by now, having attended these meetings for more years than anyone would have kept track of.

England's rather large eyebrows were raised in surprise. "You don't know?" he asked, shaking his head with disbelief. "You don't know?" Some sort of smile was beginning to form, though it was more or less hysterical. "You don't know what's wrong with me, America? Are you honestly that ignorant? Do you honestly think you can get away with this, putting me down in front of the entire world and expecting me to be so very thrilled about it?"

"Put you down?" America blinked. "England, when did I put you down? C'mon, you know we're best buddies and I-"

And that's when England slapped him. America hadn't been expecting such a little guy as England to slap hard, but he truly did. Texas went flying across the floor and America was too shocked to do anything about it. "You're a complete arse," England whispered. "To think...to think I actually thought..." He trailed off and swallowed thickly, taking deep breaths. "Obviously, though, whatever feelings I had for you don't mean a damn thing, do they?"

Blue eyes widened in confusion, America replied, "I'm sorry, England, but I don't understand what I did wrong."

England gave a bitter laugh, running his hands through his hair. "Oh, this is hilarious, America, utterly hilarious. After all you have done to me throughout the years-"

"What the hell have I done, England?" Now starting to get angry, America glared. "Quit beatin' around the bush and tell me. I want to know what I did to upset you."

The smaller nation sighed, refusing to meet America's gaze. "Your president and France's president had a press conference the other day." He seemed to hesitate before sighing once more and continuing on. "Your boss declared that...that the United States has no greater ally than the French." England finally looked at America, frowning and seeming quite upset. "And, well...I tried telling myself that I wouldn't care, but I do, America. I do. I care so much it hurts. How could you think that France, out of all countries, has helped you more than I have? I understand saying it about Canada or...bloody hell, even Mexico, for goodness sakes, but why France? Have I not assisted you in these wars you're currently engaging in? Have I not done all I can to be there for you? What happened, America? We had that whole 'Special Relationship' thing, and I truly thought...I really wanted to believe that it meant something to you."

That sent America panicking. "Wh-what? England, you...wait, hold on, I don't hate you, England! I swear, I don't! It was-"

"It was what? A misunderstanding?" England scoffed, rolling his eyes. "How typical of you, America, to brush this entire thing off as if it was nothing. I don't even care anymore, alright?" But it was a lie. His voice betrayed how he was really feeling, how much it was tearing him to pieces on the inside.

"England, I don't hate you! I don't! Look, I know it must seem pretty...crazy, but, believe me, I don't think that-"

"Forget it, America." England moved away from America. "I was a fool. I was a terrible fool for thinking that you would ever appreciate me, appreciate how exactly I felt about you. Obviously, though, America, you must have better ties with the French, despite our lengthy history together, despite all we've been through and everything I've..." He stopped, then laughed. "Isn't it funny, America? I waited so long for you, and it was all in vain."

America's heart was racing. He didn't want England to leave on such a bitter note! He wanted to continue being friends, but nothing he could say would make the island nation listen to him. "England, please don't leave me like this! I'm sure my boss didn't mean anything! He was just trying to make France's boss happy and-"

"America, do you love me?" England asked, staring up at America with such seriousness that it took America back a step or two. "Did that Special Relationship mean more to you than just a silly title?"

More than anything, America wanted to say yes. America wanted England to stay by his side as one of his closest allies. But he couldn't lie. He didn't have any sort of romantic feelings towards England. "I can't love you in that way," America whispered, hating himself so much for the heartbroken look that fell over England's face. "I'm so sorry."

England cleared his throat. "Well." He seemed to be at a loss with everything- words, feelings, life in general. "Okay. I see you made yourself clear." As he started walking away, America called out after him.

"Wait, England, where are you going? Please don't do this, we can still be friends!"

Over his shoulder, with his voice wavering, England said, "France is a much better friend than I am, America. Just leave me be." He quickened his pace until he was out of sight, leaving America standing alone in the hallway. With a resigned sigh, the superpower bent to pick up his glasses, feeling empty and lifeless and rotten.

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**Considering I heard Obama made a speech to apologize, I might make a sequel with a load of comfort and huggles and happiness, mainly 'cause I hate dealing with unhappy endings. DX If you wish to view the press conference video, type in_ President Obama & French President Nicolas Sarkozy Press Conference _on YouTube and it should be the first thing- quote is at 2:45. **

**Anyway, the British were very pissed about this whole thing, and it put a damper on the Special Relationship. So...yeah. Thus the idea was formed.  
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**If you enjoyed, please feel free to leave a review!  
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	2. Never Change

**This is written for the HetaChallenge Historical Table. Claim is America. Prompt was #14- Goodbye. For more information, please check out my Livejournal (link should be in my profile).  
**

******Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia!**

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The letters had piled up throughout the years, though they weren't as nearly as big of a pile as America would have wanted. He told himself that he would stack each and every one of England's letters until said country came back from his absence but, so far, he had yet to return. He also had yet to send more than ten letters a year, though America sent at least ten a month.

He was beginning to think that England didn't love him anymore. If not for the constant reminder inserted in England's letters (he had yet to receive one that didn't have five mentions of how much he was missed and thought of and adored), America would have already given up hope.

The day he said goodbye, many years ago, seemed like such a long time. Perhaps it was. Perhaps that's why America found he continued to grow taller and stronger and more intelligent in the ways of the world. Even if he was proud of himself, he still wanted England to be proud of him. He wanted to see that same adoration in the island nation's eyes when they would finally be able to meet up once more.

That 'once more' happened far later than America liked for it to happen, but he wasn't complaining. England was home and that was all that mattered. When his elegant voice echoed throughout the manor calling for his charge, America couldn't have been happier.

"England!" he called, storming down the hallway and stopping just short of tackling the other- he had to remember that he wasn't the child he used to be. "England, you've been gone far too long, do you know how long I waited for you, why didn't you answer my letters?"

And England's face suddenly fell when America had appeared, his eyes lost that sparkle he originally possessed. "A-America?" he asked, his voice nothing more than a squeak now, the elegance quickly receding. "Wh-When did you...how did you become so..."

"Hm? So what?" America blinked then suddenly grinned. "Yeah, you haven't seen me in ages, have you? I grew a bit taller, I guess." He wasn't taller than England at the moment, but they currently stood at the same height, eye-level with each other. Eye-level so that America could point out all the disappointment he found in England's gaze. "I haven't changed, though!" he quickly assured, giving a small laugh. "I mean...I'm still the same America, except a lot bigger than before." He didn't mention stronger, for he supposed England could already see that fact. "Isn't this great, though? I told you I'd become a larger and better country in your absence, and I did! It took a little while, but I-"

"Better? That's debatable," England muttered. Once silence fell and he realized he had spoken aloud, he quickly covered his mouth with his hands, eyes wide. "I didn't mean that!" he whispered, shaking his head as America tried not to let the hurt be too evident on his face. "I'm so sorry, America. It just slipped, I wasn't thinking. You...you are a lot larger. And better, I would imagine. Ignore what I said, I'm sorry." He managed to give a smile. "We must catch up on quite a bit, yes?"

America didn't miss the blatant lie that shone through. England didn't see him as better. England would probably _never_ see him as better. "Yeah. We should."

Only a few months later did England choose to sail off again. "But you've been home for less than a year!" America complained as England prepared to board the ship. "We barely had time to do anything! I wanted to take you hunting, there's an amazing spot just in the woods down from our house, and we could make all the jam you'd like, since you really enjoy jam-"

"I'm sorry, America," England apologized, something he seemed to be doing a lot of recently. "But there is some work that has called for my attention over in London. You'll have to stay here and continue...growing, I would assume."

His obvious distaste for the new change pierced America's heart. "Just please stay with me a little bit longer!" he begged. "I know I'm not the sweet kid you used to take care of, but I swear I haven't changed much! Everyone gets older, England, and I just want to stay with you, please?"

England sighed. "No. I'll be back as soon as I can." In an attempt to lighten the mood, he reached out and ruffled America's hair, hand hovering over the head for a few seconds longer. "You be a good lad, you hear? I'll return once I am able. Goodbye, America." Without any more words, he spun around and strode onto his ship, not looking back once.

America didn't speak until the ship was well out of sight, well out of mind, before finally moving to start the long walk back home, having dismissed the carriage once the two men had arrived on the dock. He wanted the old England back, the England from when he was a child. Hell, he just wanted the past back.

But it was gone. They had their fun, they had their bond, and now everything was different.

"Goodbye, England," America whispered into the wind, pulling his cloak on tighter around him and blinking rapidly to make sure those tears in his eyes didn't fall.

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**This is supposed to portray Salutary Neglect. For those unfamiliar with the term, it was a long-lasting period in which the British Empire decided against placing any sort of restrictions among the colonies, figuring that they would flourish without direct British rule. This lasted from about 1607-1793, with on and off laws from the British that weren't really enforced all too well (Navigation Acts, for example, which is a whole other story, so I won't get into it). This period was ended with the other acts most of us should be familiar with, namely the Sugar Act and Stamp Act. Salutary Neglect was also a large part of why the Revolution came to be- the colonies had been governing themselves for so long that sudden British intervention was a bit nerving and they'd rather go back to the way things were.**

**How my original plan somehow unraveled into this story, I'll never know, but I assure you that it was supposed to be about Salutary Neglect.**

**If you enjoyed, please feel free to leave a review!  
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	3. Not the End

**This is written for the HetaChallenge Historical Table. Claim is America. Prompt was #20- Never Again. For more information, please check out my Livejournal (link should be in my profile).  
**

******Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia!**

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France smirked at the sight of Germany, sitting there so defenseless and bloody and broken. England looked more than satisfied. Italy fumbled with his fingers, refusing to make eye contact with anyone. America watched on, a sick feeling rising up from his stomach.

"So, you finally surrender," France said, breaking the silence with his voice, the usual elegance replaced with pure hatred. "It's about time, Germany."

Said country didn't even move. He just stared at the table, his eyes betraying his pain.

"You do realize that this entire war is your fault." The French nation started to walk around the small space as he continued, twirling his hair in his fingers. "You are the cause of millions of lives lost. How does that make you feel?" When Germany didn't answer, France grabbed the collar of his shirt. "Answer me, you Kraut bastard!"

"Let him go, France," England commanded, his voice as sharp and demanding as ever. "He will have his punishment, I assure you."

America, feeling a bit left out, decided to speak up. "What about Austria and Hungary?" he asked, now feeling the other two blondes stare at him. "I-I mean, aren't they also to blame for this war? We should split the payments evenly to make sure that Germany doesn't have to pay for it all himself."

France raised his eyebrows. "They didn't kill nearly as many people as Germany did," he replied, feeling as if this answer justified everything. "I actually believe we should disband Germany, just to make sure he doesn't drag us into another war such as this one."

With a sigh, England shook his head. "That won't do. If we disband Germany, how will we ever get our repayments?"

"How much are you making him pay?" America asked a bit nervously. He wasn't used to such conferences as this one, especially when it seemed that Germany was being treated unfairly. Sure, he was to blame for the Great War, but he wasn't the _only_ one who started it. From what America had heard, both England and France were also at fault.

However, Germany had lost and, therefore, was clearly expected to take the entire blame on his shoulders.

It made America upset just thinking about it.

"Hm? Well...I believe it's around twenty-five billion pounds," France replied nonchalantly.

Noticing America's confusion, England quickly converted it for him. "If you wish to go by American dollars, it's somewhere around thirty billion."

America blinked, not sure he had heard it right. When France repeated it for his benefit, America _really_ felt like puking. "Th-That much?" he whispered. "You're seriously making him pay that amount?"

"It's only fair," came the reply from England. "America, you've seen the amount of damage he's caused. You've experienced some of these battles, yes, but have you experienced the torture of having your lands as a battleground such as this?"

America couldn't say he had, but it still seemed a bit much for him. "Has Italy agreed?" he asked. Germany finally looked up, his eyes gazing upon the brunette nation.

"I...I have," Italy choked out, giving a small whimper. "I think England and France are right."

The heartbroken look on Germany's face was almost too much for America to bear. "How the hell do you expect him to pay back that much?" he asked, slamming his fist into the table and making Italy wince. "Yes, I agree, he is the one who should be placed under the strictest punishment, but this is just plain _ridiculous_!"

"It's been decided, America," England snapped. "You mind your place, boy."

"No, I will _not_ 'mind my place', England." America's eyes narrowed behind his glasses. "Germany can't pay for this. He'll never be able to. Do you know how big of a grudge he'll have against you guys? Against all of us? This Great War is finally over! It's been the war to end all wars, and you seriously want to leave Germany like _this_?"

England glared. "You also get payments out of this, America, and he has some colonies that I thought you might-"

"I don't want them," America snarled, straightening up. "I've been perfectly happy all by myself. I should have known better than to get involved with you idiots. I should have just quit caring after I won my independence."

He stared straight at England as he said this. The island nation was obviously struggling to control his short temper. "This is no place to bring that subject up."

"I beg to differ." America pointed at the list of terms laying on the table. "_This_ is why I left you, England. You're too controlling! You're trying to be the king of everyone! You didn't let me have a say in my own country, just like you're doing to Germany."

"Be happy I even allowed you to join this meeting," England warned.

"Be happy I even decided to help you guys," America countered. "If I didn't, both of you would be under German control. And I should have let him go ahead and do it. Winning turns you both into arrogant, mindless pigs!"

The slap was loud and echoed through the boxcar. America's cheek turned red and began to sting as he put a hand up to it and turned a surprise gaze to France. He hadn't been expecting _France_, of all nations, to strike him. "Wha-"

"You try having your lands destroyed as mine are, _Amerique_," he hissed, his golden locks of hair in an unnatural disarray. "Do not judge what we're doing until you walk in our footsteps." They stared at each other for a few minutes, America still shocked and France still angry. England was the one who broke the silence.

"We're taking your points into consideration, America. Please, though, do not pester us any more about our choices. You're outvoted, three to one. We're not changing our minds."

America let his gaze wonder around the room, to the annoyed faces of France and England, to the disheartened expressions of Italy and Germany. He found he couldn't take it any longer. He didn't want to continue to be a part of these European affairs. He wanted to go back home, where he could just live peacefully and freely without any sort of worries.

"Do what you want," he growled, grabbing his jacket. "I don't care any more."

It was over, at least. He felt pity for Germany, but that didn't stop his relief of the war finally ending. That didn't stop the comforting thought in his head that told him they wouldn't fight again.

And it didn't stop the prickling worry that welled up in his heart that trouble would be sure to pop up again.

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**Firstly...I wasn't truly able to find an exact number on the amount of reparations Germany had to pay after WW1, and I can't seem to find my old WW1 notes anywhere, so...I Googled it as much as I could and I rounded to 25-billion pounds. Just...pretend? Or, if that's not correct, please feel free to tell me.**

**At the end of WW1, England and France wanted to place strict punishments on Germany, mainly France. I kinda see what they were thinking- yes, it's harsh, but France's lands were destroyed and they had never experienced a war so big like this. They wanted to make sure it never happened again. Italy was kinda present at the meeting, but they didn't have much to add, and America, specifically Wilson, warned the rest of the Allies that perhaps setting such large reparations on Germany wasn't the brightest idea in the world. France and England refused to change their minds, so America just stayed out of it after that (and we gave them the idea for the League of Nations, yet we didn't actually join it in fear that it would drag us into future conflicts). And, yes, we could have taken over some lands/colonies in Europe, but...we didn't really need them. America just kinda wanted to go back to it's side of the world, since we didn't fully agree with the whole WW1 thing (which was called the Great War at the time).**

**There wasn't really one main VILLAIN of WW1, as there was with WW2. Germany and the Central Powers lost, though, so they took the blame.**

**If you found the history in this one interesting, I actually have another WW1 story that's America-centric. Check it out on my profile!**  
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**If you enjoyed this, please feel free to leave a review!  
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	4. The Way Things Were

******This is written for the HetaChallenge Historical Table. Claim is America. Prompt was #6- Revolution. For more information, please check out my Livejournal (link should be in my profile).**

**************Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia!**

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Usually on Christmas, America could be found in the company of his citizens, laughing and dancing and having a grand feast. They would talk about current events or past triumphs, be it winning an important fight against the Indians or figuring out how to cook a new meal. No matter what, though, America always found Christmas to be an enjoyable experience.

However, war changed everything. America realized he should have figured as much, having been at this for over a year and having already spent one Christmas away from home, but, having to face defeat after defeat, America was tired. He was tired of fighting and rebelling against England. How could he have possibly have thought that this would be a brilliant idea? How could he possibly even hope to win against the British? They were one of the greatest countries in the world. England had so much more men than America did, all of them well-trained and well-equipped. It was useless.

He tried not complaining too much, though, for his soldier's sakes. They were brave. They were strong. They weren't giving up. And America admired that, respected that.

However, even they couldn't keep up the morale for long. Whispers began to be passed, whispers of how they should just quit and go home.

America couldn't say he disagreed with them.

It soon got to the point where everything looked hopeless. There was no way for them to win, some soldiers said, and it was useless to even try.

It was then that George Washington stepped in, wanting to somehow get them a win. America knew he was a good leader. He didn't want any of them to give up. He despaired just as much as his soldiers, yes, but he was for this cause and he didn't want all their fighting to be in vain. What's more, he treated America like a son. He knew of the existence of his country, and he was willing to do anything to protect him.

"I'm planning an attack on Christmas," Washington said one night after calling America into his tent. "As you know, the British have been hiring the Hessian soldiers. Hopefully, when we attack them, we can easily have a victory and the morale will be raised. The citizens will start having hope once more." Washington brought an understanding gaze to his country. "You'll start having hope."

America gave a small smile. "Am I that easy to read, General Washington?" Without waiting for a reply, the young nation sighed, resting his head on his hand. "I'm almost ready to give up, sir. Not only is this nearly impossible, but...I mean, I was really close to England before all this. Granted, everything _is_ his fault, but I just want things to go back to the way they once were. I want us to be friends again."

Washington looked over his notes. "America, I understand how you feel. Truly, I do. However, you can't possibly believe that if you give up now and go crawling back to England, he'll treat you the exact same way. We both know he'll increase the taxes, he'll send more of his troops over here, and he'll never let any American have any sort of freedom." The Commander-in-Chief of the Continental Army allowed himself to smile for the young boy in front of him. "I used to love the British. I felt a strong sense of loyalty to them. I fought with them under the French and Indian War. I was proud to serve for both them and my country. Times have changed, though. The British aren't being friendly to us any longer. They're trying to rid us of every right we have. They view us as nothing more than unruly colonists. It is imperative that we fight. We have to prove that we _can_ govern ourselves, that we _can_ be a true country. We're England's equal. We're not any lower than them."

America mulled over this, his eyes filled with sorrow. "That's the reason I'm doing this," he whispered. "I do want to be England's equal. Even if I want things to go back the way they once were, I'd still try and fight for my right to be equal. He doesn't view me as anything other than a younger brother that needs to be watched over. He places rule upon rule on my head, forcing me to follow whatever he deems necessary." The country seemed to be trying to convince himself now, convince himself that he was in the right.

The general nodded. "Exactly my point," he agreed. "However, to prove our worth, we must fight them. England won't let us go that easily. To lose a colony before would have been a mistake. To lose a colony now would be an embarrassment. England is a country that hates to lose. And, based on my very little knowledge of the country's actual personality, I'd say that England is a country that would most certainly hate to lose you."

With a small shrug, America replied, "Maybe. I don't know anymore. I used to think that he loved me. Ever since I was a child, we were always together and life was just perfect. When he started placing all those acts on me, though, I've been under the impression that he doesn't really love me. I think he just likes the control." America sighed. "No. No, that's not it. He..." Not sure what to say now, America gave a humorless laugh. "I just don't know."

Washington was silent, so America continued, trying to explain exactly what he thought. "I loved him. I knew that he knew that I loved him. I showed my love in as many ways possible, just to make sure that he knew. And...well, maybe he doesn't want to give that up. I remember him once telling me that I was the only one who treated him in such a way. I know that most other countries in the world don't get along well with him. He taught me his history well enough for me to realize that he didn't have anyone to love and he didn't have anyone to love him back. It was just me." He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "When he saw I grew up, when he saw I was getting distant, I think something in him might have snapped. I think he had the idea in his head that I was going to leave him. And, well, he wasn't ready to be unloved once more. He wasn't ready to be alone, but I...I still left."

Sensing that America was about to start rambling or, even worse, crying, Washington quickly reached over and gave America's hand a pat. "You did the right thing, America," he whispered. "This is the right thing to do."

America let out a shaky sigh, trying to compose himself. "I hope you're right," he muttered. "Now...um...what about the Hessian army?"

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**This was supposed to actually BE the Battle of Trenton, but the story kinda got away from me and I ended up writing...this. Meh. Whatever. It works.  
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**If you enjoyed, please feel free to leave a review!  
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	5. Fort William Henry

******This is written for the HetaChallenge Historical Table. Claim is America. Prompt was #1- War. For more information, please check out my Livejournal (link should be in my profile).**

**************Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia!**

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"Welcome home!" America called out when he heard the front door slam, though he refused to look up from his book. "Was it as boring today as it always was out with your soldiers, or did-" He stopped, finally glancing up at England, who hadn't seem to move from the doorway. The island nation just stood there, something akin to great shock and horror in his eyes, and simply stared at the wall.

In a flash, America was up on his feet. "A-Are you okay, England?" he asked, quickly striding up to his caretaker and shaking his shoulder. "You're scaring me a little bit."

England blinked, looked over at him, then whispered, "I need ale. Can we go to-"

"No," America narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms and trying so desperately to look irritated (it didn't work so well- he still had some baby fat on his cheeks, and his face was showing far too much concern to ever be irritated). "Please tell me what happened. You don't normally act like this, England!"

"O-Of course I don't." England groaned, running his fingers through his hair before depositing himself in his favorite chair. "It's gone too far this time."

"The war?" America sat down across from England, leaning forward and hanging onto his every word.

England nodded. "Yes. The war. This time, though..." He gave a sharp intake of breath, obviously a bit shaken by whatever news he had heard. "This time is..." He trailed off, then closed his eyes. "We were forced to surrender Fort William Henry, America."

America wet his lips. "Isn't...isn't that the fort up in, uh..."

"New York." England sighed. "General Monro finally had to surrender after the French besieged the fort. Do you recall when I told you that many of the men at that fort were ill?" America nodded, not wishing to interrupt with any input at the moment. It was clear that England was determined to finish as soon as possible, and any speech by America would hinder him. "I should have sent more supplies. I should have sent more men, more...more _something_ to help them! This wouldn't have happened if I wasn't so careless."

Swallowing nervously, America stared at the elder country. He had hardly ever seen him this distressed. Even when he broke his arm as a child, England, though worried, knew everything would turn out just fine. Even when news of wars over in Europe would reach his ears, he always kept a cool head and continued fighting.

"England, what happened?" America's voice was stern, hardly that of a young teenager, and England spared him a glance.

"We surrendered," he said, quickly getting back on track. "And the French decided to let the men go peacefully. He promised that they would be escorted safely to Fort Edward and they wouldn't be fired upon. Quite civilized for a frog and his Native minions, wouldn't you agree?" Without waiting for an answer, England continued. "But...I don't even know whether France planned for this to happen, or if everything was out of his control. You see, he moved most of my soldiers to another camp until they could make the journey to Fort Edward. The blasted Indians, however, plundered our fort, Fort William Henry, and...oh, god, there were sick men left in the camps. The men there were wounded and sick, and the bloody Indians _killed_ them! They...they _scalped_ my men, America, my defenseless soldiers who had no damn clue what was going on."

America sat back. "That's...that's happened before, England. You know the Indians are difficult to control. Ever since I've been your colony, they've done this exact same thing." Still, he couldn't help but feel a bit shocked that they did this despite the French stating the surrender terms. Obviously, they wouldn't even listen to the men who were supposed to be their allies.

England seemed to share the same sentiments. "Yes, America, I know. I would have thought, however, that they would respect their treaty with the French. They even attempted to attack the entrenched camp. Whether or not they succeeded in killing anyone then, I...I have no earthly clue. There were even more pressing matters after that."

Getting a bit worried at the serious tone England was using, America anxiously played with his fingers, watching as his caretaker took a few deep breaths.

"The next morning, the French entered huts and murdered all the wounded British soldiers they could. Those soldiers were supposed to be under the care of French doctors, but I guess the French found it silly to stand up for their enemies, despite the terms they were under." He laughed humorlessly then, looking at the ground. "Apparently, Monro complained about the terms that had been violated but, really, when do the French ever listen to such claims? We should have known better than to trust them."

America made a small noise in the back of his neck, waiting for England to continue, which he did after a few minutes.

"The rest of the people from the fort- men, women, and children- left a few hours later. I believe they were planning on leaving sooner, but the Indians wouldn't let them, and now everything is just a mess. It's a complete _mess_, America, but France refuses to take responsibility for what he allowed to happen to-"

"What happened?" America cut him off, now very much worried about what England had yet to tell him.

"They were slaughtered," England whispered, his green eyes filled with the pain he obviously felt at the loss of his people.

"They were _slaughtered_?" America looked alarmed. "H-How many of them?"

England shrugged. "They...they were unable to get exact numbers. A good many, that's for sure. A massacre, if you will. And many more were taken away. No one is sure what happened to them." He bit his lip. "Pro-probably dead, knowing the Indians. And...and the French...from what I heard, there were a few French trying to stop the Indians but, for the most part..." He sighed. "They just let the Indians slaughter innocent people, people who were under a white flag of truce."

The two of them sat in silence for a few minutes, England staring painfully at the ground and America gaping at the island nation across from him, wondering if this was just part of every war or if maybe this war was a special case or-

"Like you said, though, this isn't anything new. This has happened to innocent people before. It isn't the first time." England stood, brushing imaginary dirt off his clothing. "I just need to be more prepared next-"

"That's it?" America glanced up. "Aren't you going to retaliate?"

"America, lad, I'm _trying_. I don't have many men to spare, though. I thought General Webb might have been up some help, for he was supposed to send reinforcements up to the fort, but he...he didn't, I assume." The elder nations ran his fingers through his hair. "I'm just going to call it a night. I'll figure everything out tomorrow morning." Before he retired to his room, however, he reached over and placed a single kiss on America's forehead, ruffling his hair and managing to present him with a tired smile. "There are reasons why I do not wish for you to fight in this war. Any war, for that matter. War changes people, America, and I don't ever want for you to change. Promise me you won't ever go off to fight. Promise?"

America blinked. "I fight Indians every so often, though, if they start getting too close, but that's only those mean tribes, most of them are alright, and sometimes down near the bad parts of town I'll get roped into a fi-"

"Alright." England shook his head, looking just a tad bit amused. "Just promise me you won't go off and join a side of any war and fight. I've no wish for you to get hurt on my watch, you know."

"Fine," America mumbled, leaning back in his seat. "I'd kill all those Indians for you in a heartbeat, though."

England nodded. "Yes, I know you would. But don't. You're safe here." With that, he straightened up. "Thank you for listening to me. I hope you sleep well. I'll probably be off early tomorrow morning to discuss the consequences of this violation from the French and Indians, but hopefully I'll be back later tomorrow night." He smiled softly. "I'll see you then, I guess."

Still shocked that France would allow such a thing to ever happen, America just nodded and stared at England's retreating back. "Night," he called, scratching at his forehead.

He didn't care what England said; one day, he would become strong enough to help England in whatever he needed. He would fight those Indians and Frenchman and stand strong beside his big brother. It might take some convincing on his part to let England to allow him to be more of an equal to his empire, but...they were brothers. England would understand his wishes.

Hopefully.

* * *

**French and Indian War. Fort William Henry. Google it.  
**

**I've seen a few fics from this war, but America is usually a little kid. That has never made any of the senses to me. The French and Indian War was shortly before the Revolutionary War. There was, like, a 12 year time span before the Revolutionary War actually STARTED. And it's canon that America was at least a young teenager before the Revolutionary War. So unless he had this MASSIVE growth spurt in a few years, he would have had to have been a teenager during this tame frame. Awesome?  
**

**Please read and review!  
**


	6. Peace Isn't an Option

******This is written for the HetaChallenge Historical Table. Claim is America. Prompt was #17- Frozen. For more information, please check out my Livejournal (link should be in my profile).**

******Warnings: Language, sexual implications  
**

**************Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia!**

* * *

America didn't normally meet up with Russia. With this whole period of tension going on, he found it best to stay far away from the larger country. Far from his creepy smiles and innocent voice. Far from his communism and evil way of life. However, after the Cuban Missile Crisis, Kennedy and Russia's boss, Krushchev, wanted to avoid any more incidents like that. To do so, they began meeting a lot more, which meant that America also had to meet with Russia a lot more.

"I really don't want to do this," he hissed to Kennedy as they waited outside a room in the Grand Kremlin Palace. "Like, you don't understand how much I _really_ don't want to do this."

Kennedy sighed. "America, I know. You've told me many times. But I'd very much like to prevent an outbreak of nuclear war and I must speak with Mr. Krushchev to bring both of our nations closer to being at peace with one another.

America, however, frowned. "I don't see why I have to come along," he mumbled. "You could probably do fine without my help."

"Because, as a nation, you are obligated to try and get along well with other nations. I can't make Russia trust me- only _you_ can do that, America."

Just as the nation was about to respond, the door opened, and there stood Krushchev. "Mr. Kennedy," he greeted. "Why don't we talk a walk to one of my private rooms?" He then glanced over at America. "Russia is in this room," he said, and America could have sworn the man was smirking. He watched the two leaders walk down the hallway before giving a resigned sigh and entering the room.

"Ah, it's so very good to see you, _Amyerika_."

Russia's cold and strangely innocent voice made America cringe as he shut the door behind him. "I'd say the same to you, but it'd be a lie," America grumbled, glaring at the taller nation who had just stood from his seat. "Let's just sit down and shut our mouths until our bosses are done talking. I don't wanna get to know you anymore than I have to."

"But I think we should discuss our differences. You tell me how I have wronged you and I shall tell you how you have wronged me." Russia simply smiled, but America's pout remained. When no one spoke for a few seconds, Russia said, "Then I shall go first, _da?_" He began walking around the room, getting far too close for America's comfort. "Now, I know that your failed invasion of Cuba wasn't aimed towards me-" He ignored the sudden glare America shot in his direction. "-but I do think it shows just how untrustworthy you truly are, _Amyerika_. If Cuba had attacked you then and there, I wouldn't have blamed them."

"You commie bastard," America growled. "That has nothing to do with you!"

Russia blinked. "Oh, but it has," he stated. "We 'commie bastards', as you enjoy calling us, stick together, just as you capitalist pigs stick together. Why, I'm sure if I was to attack Canada, you'd get fairly angry."

"Stay away from my brother!" America snapped. "You lay one fucking finger on him, I'll rip you to shreds."

Rather than be intimidated by America's threat, Russia just giggled. "Would you?" he asked. "How about if I touched France? I saw how easy he was to defeat when Germany took him over. Considering how much more powerful I am than Germany is, I believe he would be bowing to me in a matter of days."

America was struggling to control his anger. "NATO will have your ass if you do," he replied. "I'll nuke the hell out of-"

"What if I take over England?" Russia's next question froze America, and Russia could tell he struck a nerve. "I've always imagined having him under my control. Even when we were allies during the World Wars, I wanted to hear his screams of pain. Germany told me he can scream very loud when he's in much pain." He smiled when he saw America literally shaking with rage. "I want to hear his screams." When America made no move, Russia delivered the final blow. "I want to see him writhing in pain under me, calling out your name to save him, screaming for you. And I want to see his heart break when you don't come for him and I violate him over. And over. And over. And-"

That seemed to be the last straw. America grabbed Russia by his shirt and shoved him harshly against the wall. "Don't you _dare_ lay a finger on England!" he bellowed out, face red and contorted with anger. "You leave him _alone,_ or I'll nuke you until you're nothing but a pile of fucking ashes, you hear me? Don't _touch_ him!"

Russia merely chuckled. "You're rather protective of _maliy_ England, aren't you? My, but I've never seen such loyal devotion. Even after you yourself ripped his heart out." Russia clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "I believe you caused him more pain then I ever could, _Amyerika_."

America gritted his teeth. "He's over that now," he hissed. "Don't bring that up. We've moved past that."

"Really?" Russia calmly removed America's hands from his shirt. "Well, then, I shall refrain from mentioning it again." His eyes narrowed, the smile on his face turning dark. "That still doesn't change anything."

"I said shut up."

"More than anything, though, I want to hear you scream." He looked absolutely malicious now. "I wonder if you'll scream loudly when I hurt England."

America couldn't take it anymore. He drew his fist back and punched Russia hard in the face, hearing the nose crack beneath his knuckles. "I said shut up!" he yelled. "Leave Arthur alone!"

"Arthur?" Russia managed to get away from America, holding his bleeding nose behind his hand. "You two are that close to each other? My, all the more fun, then."

America would have attacked again if not for the door opening and the two bosses entering the room, seeming unsurprised to find America and Russia looking the way they did. Unsurprised, but highly disappointed.

"You finished early," Russia commented, wiping his nose.

Neither of the two leaders answered him, which could only mean they probably got in a fight, too.

"That's enough," Kennedy said, then gestured with his head for America to follow him. "Come along. We're leaving."

America didn't need to be told twice. With one last glare towards the still-smiling Russia, he quickly stomped out of the room, trailing after Kennedy. "I hate him," he hissed once they were out of earshot. "I fucking hate him and I never want to be his ally. Ever."

Kennedy glanced over his shoulder. "One of these days, America, I want the two of you to work properly together," he said. "It might be difficult, yes, but to achieve peace in this world, the two greatest superpowers must not be enemies."

"Then maybe I don't want peace," America snapped, quickly going ahead of Kennedy to avoid any more questions.

No. If it was Russia, he could do without peace.

* * *

**I like Russia. I really do. But, during this time period, it's my headcanon that he was quite an evil feller and America was quite a moody, defensive feller. Um...yeah, Cold War and stuff. Pretty much it. You see Russia's boss and the capital building and...and stuff. The 'invasion of Cuba' incident happens to be 'The Bay of Pigs'. We did invade Cuba to take out their communist leader, Castro, but it failed. Heh. Um...yeah. If you have any questions or if you spot an inaccuracies, don't be afraid to shoot me up a review or PM or something! Enjoy!  
**


	7. Fixing the Scars

******This is written for the HetaChallenge Historical Table. Claim is America. Prompt was #11- Bombing. For more information, please check out my Livejournal (link should be in my profile).**

******Warnings: None  
**

**************Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia!**

* * *

America stood outside of the hospital room, gazing sorrowfully at the door before him. He didn't want to enter. He'd rather be doing anything at the moment than entering that room. He felt like turning around and running away, far away.

He didn't want to face Japan.

But as he stared down at his empty hands, he knew he had to. He had to apologize for making him suffer in such a manner. He had to apologize for everything.

With a deep breath, he opened the door, moving slowly into the room. The consistent beeps he heard matched his footsteps, and he walked to the bed as if in a dream, trying to pay attention to anything, anything at all, save for the feeble shape laying underneath the pure, white sheets.

He said nothing. America just stood there and said nothing. He could feel the emotionless, brown eyes on him, piercing him through. He was frozen to the spot, frozen by those eyes.

They were such familiar eyes.

After a few moments of silence (a few moments of those eyes), America cleared his throat. "I don't know what to say," he whispered.

Japan didn't respond, so America realized that he would have to do this all on his own. "I never- I never wanted this. I didn't. I just wanted to stop the killing, to stop the fighting, and to do that, I had to," He swallowed, shaking his head. "I had to kill. Ironic. I had to kill to stop the killing. I wonder if that's the way the world is supposed to work." He gave a weak shrug. "I think it might be."

He realized he was just rambling when Japan's hand suddenly came out from under the sheets, pale and shaking, to rest on America's arm.

The young nation's eyes shot up, staring at Japan in surprise, as the island nation began forming a sentence.

"You did what you had to, America-san."

Japan's face, though wrapped in bandages, seemed happy, almost cheerful. America realized with a start that Japan was happy because _he_ was there. They used to be friends, after all. But surely, with all that had happened, Japan wouldn't want to be his friend anymore. America wasn't going to blame him, but how was he supposed to repair their relationship?

Taking a deep breath, America shook his head. "I want you safe and sound. I was just-"

"You warned me," Japan pointed out, and it seemed that the effort to talk was giving him slight pain, for he quietly grunted as he opened his mouth again. "You gave me a very clear choice, and I chose the wrong one. Unfortunately, I assumed you were just bluffing. I didn't believe you had anything quite like that."

America sniffed pathetically, biting his lip in an effort to stop his quivering chin. "I wanna help you," he murmured. "I don't want to leave you like this. I want..." He trailed off, bringing a free hand up to wipe at his eyes, before whispering, "I want to be your friend once more."

Japan stared at him, inquisitive eyes searching America's forlorn expression, before he nodded with great effort.

"_Hai_," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "I would very much like to be your friend once more."

That was when America broke down. He let the tears finally escape the confines of his eyes, and they rolled down his cheeks as he struggled to keep control of his breathing. He didn't understand any more. He had hurt Japan so much, and yet Japan was willing to be his friend once more. Japan was actually willing to forgive.

America's heart wrenched painfully in his chest as he stared down at the broken Asian country. Japan looked calmly back up at him, and America realized just how much of a blubbering fool he probably was. To take the focus away from his crying, he managed to somehow get out, "I'm so-sorry, Japan. I'm so, so sorry."

Without a second of hesitation, America bent down and carefully gathered his friend in an awkward hug, his body bent low so that he wouldn't have to lift Japan's body up. "I'll fix you. I swear, I'll fix you."

And Japan- Japan just nodded. His simple movements made America's tears fall even faster. He had prepped himself for accusations, for the silent treatment, for pure hatred.

He didn't know what to do when faced with love.

"I trust you," Japan said in a hushed voice.

The road to fully repairing the damage would indeed be a very lengthy road, but America was more than ready to travel it.

* * *

**Yeah, the bombing and stuff. Afterwards, America helped Japan clean up the mess. I'm still debating whether or not I side with America's decision to drop the bombs. I wouldn't, since I despise total war, but then I remember that America HAD warned Japan, multiple times, and told them to evacuate the innocents, but Japan didn't listen,so...**

**No matter what, though, it's still very, very tragic and awful. It was hard writing a fic to kinda portray the horror of any bombing, so I went with the emotional aspect of it (which I should really stop doing, comedy is my genre, not sadness).**


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